ing his brown canvas shooting coat along. It lay, with his old pump gun, on the front seat beside Hector, the chauffeur. "Hell, I don't have to wear it just be- cause I bring it, do I?" he had said. Fairlie herself wore a pale-brown knitted silk dress. It wasn't right, she felt, but even if she had been sure of what was right, she wouldn"t have had it in her wardrobe. The uncertainty about her clothes, added to her excite- ment and her uneasiness about Joe's behavior, made her feel as if she were just a jump ahead of hysterics. lVlost of the way they rode in silence. Joe broke it by saying, "I don't know why I said we'd do this. It's just a waste of time. Shooting clay pigeons! " " B J " O d F 0 1 0 " h d ut oe, sal aIr Ie, ow a you know till you see how they do it here? " " I k I ' 1 " now. t s too easy 0 "Don't tell them it's easy, will you, J " oe. "F or God's sake!" he said. "You act like I'd never been out of a nursery." "Please, Joe. Don't be like that," she said. "I do so want us to have a good time." He grunted and relapsed into a silence that lasted till they reached the Foltons' house. If only, thought Fairlie as they got out of the car, he doesn't begin boasting. , " " > :.,:. ::;.: \: :'::::h< .:.' _ .f,. :-.iI'" The shooting party was gathered in the big living room. If she hadn't been so nervous, Fairlie would have tried to make Joe see how the room was furnished and decorated, and dropped a hint about redecorating their living room. Left to himself, he'd never notice a thing. The warm comfort of this room emphasized, in Fairlie's mind, the unsuitability of the all-white color scheme at Cottrellton. What a mistake I made to let that Providence woman do the job, she thought. I should have had a really experienced man from New York. She had met most of these people before-Mr. and Mrs. Medford, Mrs. F alton, and Mrs. Hiram Green, the arbiter of Providence society-but only at formal affairs, at children's parties, and chanty benefits. Seeing them now, like this, was wonderfully exciting. She noted that two of the men wore gray flannels, but was surprised to see that Mr. Folton and a tall man, introduced as Baron Rassen, had on shooting coats of canvas so old that they made Joe's look new by comparison. F olton also wore a pair of riding breeches partly covered with torn and stained chamois leather and laced boots that were twins to the ones Joe had wanted to wear. \î[ijß ..<-, " ' ,.> .;. v ,.., tt j ' J, 23 Goodness, thought f'airlie, but how do you kno\v? The women wore tweeds, except that pretty Mrs. F olton, who had on a leather windbreaker, breeches, and Newmarket boots. For a long time they stood around whi]e the men and-F'airlie noted with discomfort-Mrs. Folton and Mrs. Medford drank whiskey. Joe seemed to be having a fine time, talking and laugh- ing with the F oltons. She edged nearer to them, listening. " I ' 0 1 I " F 1 O d t s a speCla ayout, 0 ton sal . "Skee. Ever shot that way?" "No," Joe said, "but it don't sound so difficult." " J ." O d F 1 " I ' ll ust you walt, sal 0 ton. bet my wife can beat you." Fairlie watched Joe's expression as he turned to Mrs. Folton. "Are you a gun- ner?" he asked. " y " M F 1 . d " I " es, rs. a ton sal. try. ".i re you so hot, then? .i t shooting? " "Oh-are you implying that I might be hot at something else?" Joe grinned. "Take it like that," he said. It seemed to Fairlie that he was incredibly at his ease. "Well, come on," said F olton. "Off we go. Are you coming, Mrs. Wilson?" " D ' " M G O d on t you go, rs. reen sal . "It's noisy and stupid. They just do .'. ::.:.:- ;.:-.\.":..: :.0':'.-,- :::'.\": :- .. . ' , .' . ," I ", : ':: . ' ,, . ." ..".. ... . . ".': ,'.' ..,::..:,.:;4:, ',' ..';iSII ",', '." ';: l1 """, n ),';: : ' ... ' .., 2; ", . < , ,." ......'x ., .. .Mi'& h \" . ? "'W; ; ;:; ::::,;;:' ';'J ;:::"r:" ..:,' '"-.oJ::.:: ... .." :;::.- ...,' :.:.' ., 1m .::-,- ï ,::::.: ..'" !1 p, , ,i Jrs r l , F ;;i ' ì W' ' 'i 11 :: i :..":: ". <'i::} jir ..... ? ; .; ;;l: -:-. ;.; :-.:;.. :.;::: - ::- /*Í :-::: ::;; .,:: i: i:' /#ti....-. .: ; f . .. "It's all rig-ht, ladies. Mr. Thomasson says you n ay knit."